


Claustrophobic

by LiaIsInLove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Brotherly Love, Claustrophobia, Gen, Niall-centric, OT5 Friendship, Panic Attacks, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2641178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiaIsInLove/pseuds/LiaIsInLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The walls were closing in.  I swear to god the walls were going to crush me between them.  And I could not breathe because all of the air was being sucked out of the room as the walls squeezed closer and closer together.</p><p>Or the one where the boys get trapped in a lift and Niall's Claustrophobia leads to a violent panic attack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> If this might trigger you, please don't read it.
> 
> I am and will be graphic in my descriptions.

_The walls were closing in.  I swear to fucking god the walls were going to crush me between them.  And I could not fucking breathe because all of the goddamned air was being sucked out of the room as the walls squeezed closer and closer together.  My heart beat frenetically, trying to accomplish a lifetime’s worth of beats in the few minutes I had left before I ran out of oxygen and died in this motherfucking hellhole.  I needed air.  I couldn’t breathe.  I couldn’t think.  All I knew was that I was about to die, suffocating, choking for air that would not come, trapped inside this fucking deathtrap that was hell bent on strangling me.  And I was not ready to die.  I had so much to do.  I didn’t want to die.  I couldn’t die.  Not here.  Not now._

_Why couldn’t I breathe?  I needed to breathe.  I was going to die. Air.  Air. Air. I needed air.  But there was none left.  The walls were closing in, and there was no air left.  My lungs burned, searing with fire as I was smothered by the walls.  I could feel them on my chest, the immense weight, and it was as if I was buried beneath twenty feet of rock.  The weight on my chest was too heavy, and I couldn’t lift it to bring in air.  My head was spinning.  There were black spots going up and down in front of my eyes, and the edges of my vision were already completely dark.  I was so dizzy.  I needed air.  But there was no fucking air.  Goddammit I needed oxygen but there wasn’t any because these fucking walls were suffocating me._

_I was so so dizzy.  And there was cotton in my mouth, so thick, I couldn’t suck any breath past it.  Not that there was any air for me to breathe.  But it sat in the back of my throat and choked me._

_Everything was burning hot.  My head, my neck, my chest, my lungs were all on fire.  Scorched away by the flaming knife sticking into my ribs.  I couldn’t breathe.  I needed cool air so I could think and cool myself down.  But there wasn’t any.  And I didn’t want to die._

_I was sobbing.  Hysterically pounding on the metal doors of the lift, screaming, wailing, gasping, sputtering, choking, on the verge of collapse.  We had been stuck for hours, and I was about to die.  I needed out.  I needed to get out that very second or else I wouldn’t be around for another second._

_Harry had been stroking my hair but I was too far gone to know whether or not he was even still in the fucking lift with me or not.  Zayn had been alternating between rubbing my back and my chest, trying to help expand my collapsing lungs but all I could think about was how much I needed to get air and how dizzy I was and how hot I was and how much I needed to get out of this fucking lift.  Louis had been trying to distract me with jokes but I lost track of him ages ago.  Liam had been telling—begging—me to calm down and breathe (if I could fucking breathe, then I would fucking breathe, but there was no fucking oxygen so it was out of the question and he was not making anything any better) but there was no space in my head for thoughts other than my need for the air that I could not get and the pain of my lungs and chest ._

_All I knew was that I was dying and I needed to get the fuck out._

Help! Help! Get me out! _I had screamed at the beginning, but I now had no breath to breathe a word.  And it was getting hotter and blacker.  There was a fire, and the smoke was throttling me, choking me, killing me.  And I was so dizzy.  I couldn’t live without air.  I couldn’t survive this.  Help!  I needed air.  I was going to die.  I was dying.  I was dead.  The blackness grew, swallowing me whole._


	2. Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lift had suddenly lurched, sending all five boys toppling painfully into each other. And then the lights began to flicker. Just a little bit at first, and then all at once they sparked and everything went black.

It had been a long day. A really long day. And Harry, Liam, Louis, Zayn, and Niall were exhausted. They’d woken up at half five—a god-awful unnatural hour; the sun wasn’t even up, Louis had whined to Harry—to prep for a photo-shoot for some trashy teen magazine that no one even remembers the name of, and, after three hours of make-up, flashing lights, sweating, trying not to sweat, attempting to look sexy—a skill which only Zayn and Harry really had down to be totally honest—and the incessant clicking of the cameras, it had be full steam ahead from there; interview, interview, interview, meet and greet, signing, sound check, interview, concert, meet and greet, and finally, bed. Or at least, that was the plan, and Louis was damn sure that he would claw out the eyes of anyone who interrupted his sleep for the next at least thirty hours. They had to be up at nine the next morning, Liam tentatively reminded him. Fine. The next eight and a half hours then. Anyone who got in the way of him and his pillow was dead meat for all he was concerned.

And it was with that sentiment that the boys of One Direction stumbled into the lift in the Parisian hotel that they were staying in for the night. They were staying on the fourth floor which was way too many fecking flights of stairs right now and, no, Niall, just get in the fucking lift already, stop being a prat. Louis was normally much more sensitive to Niall’s fear of enclosed spaces but he had just about had it with the entire world and every person who ever lived and he was not in the mood to negotiate with an overtired Niall who was most likely going to pass out from exhaustion traipsing up four flights of stairs. Plus, Niall’s never really had a problem riding in elevators, and fine, maybe he has a point because the lifts in Paris are absolutely tiny and even Louis feels a bit claustrophobic in them—they literally got stuck just trying to get their bags out when they arrived two days ago—but Louis is so not in the mood.

“Just get in the fucking lift, you twat,” he growls, before physically dragging Niall inside. Niall gave up without much fight. He was tired too, after all. So they squeezed in and waited for the ancient doors to reopen. As they creaked upwards ever so slowly Louis’ head began to nod onto Liam’s shoulder. And he may or may not have started to drool a little bit. He was tired okay!

But seriously they’d been in the lift for at least three minutes now, and they still weren’t even past the second floor, if the little gauge above the control panel was anything to go by. Louis knew the whole building was ancient but this was a bit much. Why weren’t they moving? And why was the creaking and groaning and moaning getting louder? And—what the fuck was that!

The lift had suddenly lurched, sending all five boys toppling painfully into each other. And then the lights began to flicker. Just a little bit at first, and then all at once they sparked and everything went black. “Fuuuuu-uuuuuck,” Louis whined, exasperated beyond belief. Of all of the times that the goddamn lift had to stop working… “Leeeeyuuuumm fiiiix iiiiit.” He didn’t need the lights to know that Liam, just as tired and peevish, though somehow managing to act like a normal eighteen year old rather than cranky toddler, was rolling his eyes.  
  
He also didn’t need the lights to know that the agonized moan came from Niall.


	3. Terrified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The eerie glow illuminated Niall’s ghastly pale face in the most frightening way Harry had ever seen.

The lights went out and Harry was suddenly much more awake.  He had been about to fall asleep standing on his feet but when they jerked to a halt, he had woken up so to say.  He heard Louis complaining in the high-pitched child-like whine that annoyed the crap out of Paul (so Louis, being Louis, did it quite often, of course) and then he heard, ever so quiet, and ever so painful, Niall’s anguished whimper. _Shit_.  Harry was definitely awake now.

Pulling out his phone from his pocket, Harry flicked on the backlight.  The dim light was just enough to illuminate the rough outlines of his boys’ figures. Liam immediately did the same with his phone.  Zayn had had his arm wrapped protectively around Niall’s waste but Niall shoved him off with another moan. 

“Nialler…?” Harry heard Liam ask tentatively. Niall shook his head. Harry groaned. This was not good. This was really not good. He knew they needed to distract Niall, immediately, or else this would not end well. He couldn’t stop his mind flashing back to that one time in the X Factor House when...He didn’t like to think about it, and especially not now.  Not now when his Niall needed him.  Shuddering slightly, Harry placed a hand in Niall’s soft blonde hair and ruffled in gently.

“That chicken we had the other night was really good, right Niall?  I could totally go for some more of that right now.  Hmm?” Niall didn’t respond. He just stood, terrified, quivering beneath Harry’s fingers.  Whilst Harry prattled on some more, trying to draw Niall’s attention, Liam had called Paul to tell him what was happening and ask him to get the hotel staff working on fixing the lift as soon as possible.  Meanwhile, Zayn had pulled out his phone and was reaching into Niall’s pocket to grab his blackberry as well. 

The eerie glow illuminated Niall’s ghastly pale face in the most frightening way Harry had ever seen.  Indeed, he was so shocked by his best mate’s deathly pallor that he turned his eyes away towards Liam who was whispering furiously into his phone, undoubtedly relaying all that was happening to Paul.

Unsure what to say—Harry had already covered his four staple topics: food, music, television, and funny cat memes on the internet—he paused.  Luckily Louis was quick to cover his silence, butting in to drown out Liam’s conversation.

“’ey Nialler, betcha can’t guess this one. What kind of bagel can fly?” He paused for the briefest of moments, waiting in vain for Niall to offer up a guess. “A _plain_ bagel…Geddit? Eh? Eh? Aww c’mmon, Niall, that’s _fuuunny_. Or should I say _punny?_ ”

He really was pulling out all of the stops, Harry thought.  And normally, Harry would have laughed because Louis’ jokes were so pathetically absurd that they were hilarious, but the situation was rather dire, so he couldn’t find much to laugh about.  Instead he concentrated his fingers on conveying his love and hopefully some sense of calm to Niall as Louis rattled off increasingly horrible jokes. 

Harry wanted to make Niall understand that he was loved, and that he was safe: his boys wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Ever.  His brothers would protect him.  Always.  But he didn’t know how to say that, and he thought that maybe saying it might make his brother freak out more, so he focused on trying to pass the message through his fingers. Lovingly, and with the utmost tenderness, he caressed the silky soft baby hairs at the base of Niall’s scalp and tried not to let his mind wander.

But Niall, from what Harry could see in the unnerving glow, was growing, if possible, increasingly paler with every passing moment. His eyes, normally so bright and sparkling, were hidden by the shadows, but Harry could faintly make out their frantic darting, panicked, searching desperately for an escape that was not there. Harry’s fingers were growing damp from the sweat forming on Niall’s brow, and he could feel Niall trembling. This was bad.  This was really bad.

Harry longed to pull his brother into his arm and scare away all of the demons running rampant in his head, poisoning everything in their path with petrifying, blood-curdling fear. Harry longed to hold Niall close, and assure him that he’d never let anyone or anything hurt him. But he knew— _he knew_ —given the circumstances, that would only make everything worse.  So Harry had to watch from a far as his brother slipped away from him.  He had to stand by and watch, helpless, as Niall fell apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So tomorrow (today if you want to get technical) is an American holiday called Thanksgiving. If you don't know, it's a time where families come together, and people reflect and give thanks for all that they have (like their families, their health, their friends, the roof over their head, food security, etc.).
> 
> I would like to take some time to say that I am so so incredibly lucky and thankful to have been blessed with the life I have been given. I know that I am so fortunate to have everything that I have, and to have a loving family, and for my family's health. And I am so sorry that not everyone is as lucky as me, and was not born into a loving family, or with good health, or with any of the privileges that I am so lucky to have. 
> 
> I am so thankful--every day--for all that I have been given. I wish with all of my heart that everyone could be as blessed as I was--I am--and I would give anything if it meant that I could take away everyone's pain; I would trade away my life so that they could have happiness if it were possible. But it's not. So instead I have to focus on what I can do to give back to those who were not as lucky as myself to be born into a life where I have the luxury to be who I am and follow my dreams. I have the luxury to dream. And for that I am immeasurably grateful.
> 
> Every day, it is important to remember to be thankful for what you have, and compassionate for those who do not have. But I am asking you, for this one day at least, to please take a moment to reflect and be thankful for what you have in your life. Even if you are not American, I really think that it's important. Even if you don't have the perfect life--and no one does--please take some time to be grateful for one thing or one person in your life. And don't just keep it to yourself. Tell that person how much you appreciate them, how much they mean to you. It will go a long way. I promise.
> 
> I believe with all of my heart that it is so important to recognize and be grateful for what you do have, and, more importantly, to open your hearts and give compassion, love, support, and aid to those who are not as fortunate.
> 
> To those of you going through a hard time right now, my heart goes out to you. If I could, I would take away your suffering. But I, quite sadly, do not possess any magical super powers, and I know that I can't save the world. But I want you to know that you are loved. You are important. You are kind and intelligent and you mean the world to somebody. I want you to know that I care about you. I want you to know that you are worth it, and you are special and unique and, even if it doesn't seem like it right now, you are loved, and you are important, and things will get better. Just hang in there. I want you to know that I am sending all of my love. And I want you to know that I am always here to talk, if ever you need me. And I want you to know that I am so grateful to each and every one of you for reading what I write, because it makes my own burden seem a little lighter, a little easier to bear, knowing that my thoughts can reach other people. So thank you all for helping me.  
> I hope you all have a wonderful day.  
> As always, lots of love,  
> -Lia


	4. Tortured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall was starting to lose it, or to lose touch with his surroundings, if Liam were to put in a more appropriate manner.

_Stay calm.  Don’t freak out.  Don’t panic.  Stay calm.  Stay calm.  You’ve got this under control.  Don’t panic.  Stay calm.  It’s okay.  It’s not that bad.  You can do this.  Just stay calm.  Don’t freak out.  Stay calm_ , Liam kept telling himself.  Of course, he knew deep down that these hopes had no bearing on actuality and that he was just psyching himself out more, but he buried those unpleasant realities beneath his shallow (panicked) reassurances.  _Stay calm.  Stay calm.  Stay calm!_  

Liam had hung up after telling Paul what had happened and begging him to fix it ( _as fast as humanly possible, please, Paul!_ ), and was now surveying the situation.  Niall was starting to lose it, or to lose touch with his surroundings, if Liam were to put in a more appropriate manner.  He had begun to mumble frantically, and was rocking from side to side.  Liam couldn’t quite distinguish words; it all sounded like pained moaning to him.  _Stay calm, Liam, stay calm.  Don’t panic.  Don’t freak out._

Niall’s rocking grew until he was now bouncing off the walls, going from side to side, in what should have been pacing, but in the tightly enclosed space constituted him literally stepping sideways left, smacking into the wall, pushing off forcefully, stepping sideways right, smacking into the wall, pushing off forcefully, and repeat.  Liam could detect some of his agitated mutterings, “Oh god, oh god, oh god!  I need to get out!  Oh god!  We’re gonna die!  Oh god!  Oh god, oh god!”

 _Stay calm, Liam, just stay calm and don’t panic.  You’ve got this under control.  You can do this.  Just stay calm.  Don’t panic._  “Nialler, you need to calm down.  We’re all gonna be fine.  I promise,” he said with his best and most unwavering reassurance.  “But you need to stay calm.”

Still slamming into the walls, Niall bleated shrilly “How am I supposed to be calm when we’re all gonna die!  Oh god!  Oh god!  Get me out of here!  I don’t wanna die! _”_   He was on the verge of tears now.  Scrap that; he was in tears now.  With Niall bordering on hysteria and the lift not getting any less stuck, Liam was hard-pressed to remain calm.  _Stay calm, Liam.  Stay calm and don’t fucking panic.  Don’t you dare panic.  Just stay calm.  Fucking stay calm._

“Nialler, please, calm down.  We’re all okay. You’re safe, I promise.  Everything will be okay, but you need to calm down.” 

Liam made to wrap his arms around Niall, stop him from slamming himself into the walls, but the second his arms touched the boy, he cried out, shrieking as if someone had stabbed him. “I can’t breathe!  I can’t breathe!  Stop suffocating me!  I can’t breathe! Help!  Help!  Somebody help!  I can’t breathe!”  Niall lunged forward, tortured, clawing desperately at the closed metal doors, his fingers scrabbling rabidly over the hard surface. 

 _Shit!  Shit! Shit!  Oh holy good lord Jesus fucking Christ!  Oh shit!  Oh god!  Oh shit!_ Long gone were any pretenses that Liam had some semblance of calm and order.  Long gone was any ill-fashioned façade of control.  Niall was having a full-out, full-blown, god-awful panic attack and there was nothing they could do about it and Liam was definitely not calm; not even fucking close to calm.

“Breathe!  Niall you need to try to breathe!  Here, breathe with me!  In and out! Iiiiinnnn and ooouuuuuuut.  In and out.  Niall you need to breathe!”  Liam instructed.  _Oh god!  Oh shit!  Oh god.  Think Liam, think!  Oh god!  This is bad!  This is really bad!  Oh god!  Oh shit!  Think!_   But Niall was preoccupied wailing and throwing his entire weight against the doors, trying in vain to get them to open.  He was screaming at the top of his lungs now.  And all Liam could do was stand there dumbly, like a fish out of water, gaping, repeating like a broken record.  “C’mmon and breathe, Niall.  Please breathe with me!  You need to slow down your breathing!  In and out!  Please just try and breathe with me!  Inhale for ten and exhale for ten!  Or five!  C’mmon you can do it!  Let’s try it!  Please, Niall!” 

Liam faintly registered that, while Louis had fallen silent to allow Liam to speak, Harry was still trying to pet Niall’s sweaty hair.  Zayn made another move to gently grab Niall, but the hysterical boy threw him off once more, screaming even louder.  He was gasping and choking, spluttering as he yelled and pounded on the door.  There was little Liam could do but beg him to breathe.  He remembered all to well what had happened the last time Niall had been trapped like this, and he had vowed that he’d never be that useless to help his little brother ever again.  But here he was.  And there was nothing he could do to save Niall from his crippling panic attack. 


	5. Tormented

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So first off, he needed to get Niall breathing, or else he would pass out. He’d deal with everything else later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anxiety is not a pretty thing.
> 
> Also, I would like to ahead of time say that I personally have nothing against France, I think it's a lovely place that is gorgeous and has amazing food. There's one line in here that might offend some French people and for that I apologize and want you to know that it's only in here for the story, there is no truth to it whatsoever, and I sincerely hope that I don't offend anyone.
> 
> I think possibly some trigger warnings for panic attacks, but seriously, if you've made it this far, I don't think I need to warn you anymore (though if this is triggering for you then please don't keep reading!!)

Zayn hated this so much.  He hated being so utterly helpless, powerless, weak. He hated having to stand by and watch as his little brother screamed and sobbed and shrieked for help that would not come.  He hated hearing his painfully sharp wheezing and wailing as he struggled to breathe. He hated the dull thump that shook the lift every time Niall threw his slight body against the door. He hated the way the tears and snot poured down his brother’s face.  He hated knowing that Niall was minutes away from passing out.  He hated how upset and mortified Niall would be when he finally regained consciousness and how it would take weeks, probably months, for him to get past it.  He hated how Niall had come so far since that time at the X Factor house, and all that progress he’d made would be thrown out the window and they’d be catapulted back to square one. God dammit he hated it. He hated this stupid fucking lift. And he hated this stupid fucking hotel. And he hated this stupid fucking country because god dammit why the fuck couldn’t they fucking make fucking lifts that worked, or that were at least the same size as his closet if not bigger. God fucking damn it he hated it so much. But more than anything he hated the fact that his little brother was in so much pain and there was nothing he could do to help him.

Niall was hysterical.  He was sobbing and wheezing and gasping and wailing and moaning and whimpering and choking and screaming.  Zayn couldn’t resist trying to envelop Niall once more in his arms. But as soon as he did, he wished he hadn’t. Niall screamed louder than ever, his voice tearing to shreds. “ _I can’t breathe!_ ” And then he promptly began clawing at his chest and neck, the blunt scraping of flesh beneath his nails sickeningly loud despite his gasping and sobbing. “ _I can’t breathe!  I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! They’re crushing me! Get them off!  Help!  The walls are crushing me! I can’t breathe! Help me!  Pleeeeeaaaassee!_ ” He was no longer screaming. He wheezed out each word, as though he was being suffocated, tormented, gasping and spluttering.

Zayn blanched.  No! No! No! God, that was so stupid of him.  Why would he do that?  He knew better than that!  Honestly he did! He’s not stupid. He’s really not. But god fucking dammit _that_ was stupid! 

It was Liam who grabbed Niall’s wrists to stop him ripping at his throat.  Liam’s still commanding Niall to breathe, as if his words might magically make the oxygen flow to Niall’s lungs.  Out of the corner of his eye, Zayn saw that Harry was in tears as well.  Louis had fallen silent, shocked and unable to keep up his stream of jokes.  Zayn groaned. Fuck.

Okay. Okay. So first off, he needed to get Niall breathing, or else he would pass out.  He’d deal with everything else later.  Now how to get Niall breathing…He knew that commanding him to breathe (Liam) would not work, since he was unable to do so on his own. So he had to try and calm him down.

Zayn reached out a tentative hand and placed it on Niall’s back.  He began rubbing in calming circles, murmuring, “It’s okay Nialler, you’re okay. You’re alive.  You’re not gonna die, I won’t let you.  I promise.  Shhh. You’re okay Nialler.” Without stopping his hand or his murmurs, he motioned for Liam to sit Niall on the ground. 

Harry and Lou crowded to the edge of the lift to make room for Niall and Zayn and Liam to sit on the floor (Liam still had a firm grasp on Niall’s struggling hands that were itching to resume their clawing). Zayn sat back against the wall and leaned Niall against him, this time rubbing his chest soothingly, trying to get his lungs to relax and expand.  He could feel Niall’s heart beating furiously beneath his palm. With one hand still thumbing gently over Niall’s heaving chest, Zayn reached his fingers up to Niall’s neck to check his pulse.  It was thrumming so fast he couldn’t keep up to count the beats.  Fuck.

Niall was fighting to escape Liam’s hold. He was trembling, visibly quaking against Zayn’s chest.  His breathes were unbelievably shallow and loud as he gasped for air. Suddenly he lurched forward and began to heave harshly, gagging and spluttering as though he had just been drowned.  Zayn realised what was going to happen half a second before Niall retched all over himself. Niall was too far past the point of even being aware of his surroundings to notice let alone care that he was covered in his own vomit.  Zayn’s stomach lurched.  He was never good with people throwing up; it made him nauseous.  But his little brother needed him.  And so he bit back the queasiness and leaned forwards, trying to tug Niall’s now sopping sweater over his head.  Niall was so far gone by this point, Zayn doubted he was even present in the lift anymore. He wrestled the putrid sweater off of Niall and tossed it to the side, struggling to get Niall’s arms through it, and wincing when it covered his head and Niall screamed at the top of his lungs, agonized, as though someone had pressed a flaming hot iron to him and his flesh was searing away.

The moment Niall was free he leapt to his feet and slammed into the door of the lift.  It was less than two seconds later that his body gave out and he came crashing back to the floor, landing half on top of Liam, unconscious.

Fuck.


	6. Troubled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul was practically shouting at the hotel staff, fully aware that there was nothing they could do.

The hotel staff was calling in a mechanic. He would be there in about twenty minutes and it would take anywhere from two minutes to two hours to fix the lift; they wouldn’t know until he arrived and assessed the situation. In the meantime everyone had to sit tight and wait.  
  
One minute after hanging up his phone call from Liam, Paul was in a frenzy. One of his boys was in bad shape. One of his boys needed him and here he was stuck waiting for a stupid mechanic that would likely take upwards of an hour. One of his boys was hurt and he had no way of seeing him. One of his boys was in danger and there was nothing he could do about it.

Three minutes after the call ended the hotel rang up a mechanic. Deeply troubled, Paul reminded himself to stay calm, but it was certainly hard. Although he would never admit it, he loved those boys like they were his sons. And he had a special soft spot in his heart for Niall (didn’t they all), his fellow Irishman. So knowing that Niall was in such a bad way was killing him.

Liam had told him they were stuck, the lights were out, Niall was starting to hyperventilate, and nothing was working to calm him down thus far. Paul prayed that they would manage to quell Niall’s panic before he reached a full-blown panic attack but his hopes weren’t high. He had seen the way Niall got when the boys were mobbed. And he had seen how freaked out Niall was when he got separated or stuck in the mob. He had seen Niall deliberately take the stairs instead of using the lift time after time. He had seen Niall crying that one time he got trapped in the bathroom stall. And he had heard about the time when, while the boys were on X Factor, Niall had gotten locked in the closet during a game of Sardines and had a panic attack so bad they'd needed to call paramedics in to make sure he was okay. That was Paul’s warning when it came to Niall. Simon Cowell had sat him down when he first started working for One Direction and told him what had happened, giving the strict instructions to keep Niall safe and make sure it never happened again. But his promise to Simon and himself was crumbling down around him, weakening with each passing minute.

Seven minutes after he’d hung up Paul was practically shouting at the hotel staff, fully aware that there was nothing they could do. He only felt a little bit sorry. He was more worried with getting his boys to safety then about stepping on a few toes and minding his social p’s and q’s.  
  
Nine minutes after, he got a text from Harry: ‘Please hurry…he’s worse’ Paul swore loudly. “Isn’t there anything you can do?” He asked the manager.  
  
“I’m sorry sir,” he said in a thickly accented voice, “But there is nothing we can do until the mechanical engineer arrives.”

Paul swore again.

Four and a half minutes after his text from Harry, Paul’s phone rang. Without even checking the caller ID, he answered it with a hurried, “Hello?”

“Niall’s unconscious,” came Louis’ voice. “He fainted.”

“Shit,” Paul muttered, motioning the manager over, “Call the paramedics, one of the boys is unconscious.”  The man nodded and moved off to dial the phone. “Louis, is he breathing?”

“Yeah, but not evenly or anything. It’s really weird. Kind of strained maybe.”

“Shit,” Paul swore. “He must have triggered himself into having an asthma attack. Fuck.” Paul knew only too well that Niall’s inhaler was in his own back pocket, and the other in Niall’s bag in his room. Paul carried Niall’s inhaler with him everywhere, under Maura and Bobby’s orders (both had sat him down and told him that even though Niall’s asthma didn’t flare up all that often, they would not allow him to tour Europe without it). Niall had originally scoffed and resented this, but after one potentially bad asthma attack he’d given up trying to convince Paul otherwise.

“Paul where’s his inhaler?” Louis asked, in trepidation.

With a groan, Paul replied, “In my pocket. His other one’s in your lot’s room.”

“Fucking hell.”

“I know. Just, hang tight, the mechanic is almost here, and I called an ambulance. Help is on the way, so just hold on, okay?” He finished in a question, begging Louis to be mature.

For once, Louis did not disappoint “Okay. Just...just make them hurry, okay. I know you will, but it’s pretty bad in here.”  
  
Paul sighed before agreeing and hanging up.

Two minute later the mechanic arrived.

Exactly four minutes after he arrived, the ambulance pulled up, and the EMT’s rushed through the door.

One minute and forty-seven seconds later the doors to the elevator opened.

Thirty-nine seconds later Niall was loaded onto a stretcher and rushed into the back of the ambulance.

Paul’s last glimpse before they slammed the ambulance doors was of his boys huddled together, watching as he and Niall sped off to the nearest hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies. So I wasn't going to update but then I decided that I probably should seeing as I have no valid excuse not to. So here it is. I hope you like it. Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to all of you. I hope that you all have a splendid holiday. 
> 
> On another note, I was doing some research and I found out that you don't actually faint during a panic attack because your blood pressure rises, and you only ever faint when you're blood pressure drops. You feel like you're going to faint, but it is very rare to faint. Unless of course you have another condition...like asthma. So basically, to clarify, which I will do more so in the next chapter, Niall's panic attack triggered an asthmatic attack which caused him to faint. I think that's scientifically correct. If not, please do correct me. 
> 
> Have a lovely day, and please be kind and forgiving with one another and yourselves. The holidays are about spreading love and joy, and giving back, not just about getting presents. Please remember that. I love you all.
> 
> Lots of love,  
> -Lia


	7. I'm Sorry

Hello lovies,  
In light of recent events in the One Direction world, I am deeply sorry to inform you that I have to put this story on hold for a while.  It's just that thinking about One Direction currently is a bit too much for me.  If you want to read, my explanation is below.  I'm so sorry but for the time being, I don't think I can continue this story.  I hope that one day I will be able to return to it, but for now, it's just really painful for me.  I'm so sorry, and I really and truly hope that you are all doing well.  Don't loose faith in our boys.  I know it's hard, but we can do it.  I love you all so much.  Lots of love,

-Lia

* * *

 

Here’s why this hurts so much.  

For me, One Direction came into my life in a time where everything was falling to pieces around me.  I had lost everything that I loved, and the darkness was everywhere, it was suffocating me.  I was just so sad, all of the time.  Everything was painful.  Just being alive was agony.  Nothing made me happy any more. The things that I loved had lost all meaning.  I was drowning.  And then one day these five boys, who were so affectionate and compassionate, so genuine and sweet, so thoughtful and kind, so cheeky and hilarious, so ready to laugh at any and everything, so willing to lay their hearts out on their sleeves for the world to see, so full of joy, so full of love and life, these five boys who represented all that was happiness and hope and everything pure in the world fell into my life.  Literally, I watched a video of them toppling on top of each other on stage, romping about, smacking each other in the crotches, making dirty jokes, doling out hugs, radiating happiness, as though they didn’t have a care in the world.  And for the first time in months, I was smiling.  For the first time in months, I was laughing.  For the first time in months I felt a faint sliver of light push its way through the darkness.  For the first time in months, I felt hope.  Because there were people out there who proved that some things are too pure, too special, too bright to be corrupted by the darkness life hurls at you.  For me, these five boys embodied everything that was good in the world.  From the way they loved each other so deeply, to their ability to truly enjoy life, to their unfiltered laughter, to their honesty and genuineness, to their cheeky jokes, to their unashamed confidence to be themselves, to their unadulterated joy, everything about them gave me hope.

One Direction brought me joy when nothing else could.  They made me smile when all I wanted to do was cry.  They reminded me what it was like to feel and to be alive.  They convinced me to live when everything screamed die.

I fell in love with these boys.  And not just them individually, but everything that they represented.  The symbol that they stood for.  The hope that they gave me that maybe things would one day be okay.  I fell in love so hard with these boys who laid bear their hearts to me and the rest of the world with such passion and affection that it made my chest ache with the burning love that illuminated the dark.

Any time I was sad, any time I felt hollow and frozen, any time I wanted nothing more than to hurt myself, any time the darkness too smothering, anytime the pain too agonizing, any time that I would give anything to not be alive anymore, they stuck by my side, holding my hand through the darkest of trenches, the most ferocious of storms, the most hopeless of nights, always reminding me that there was happiness in the world, that love could overcome, that hope existed.    
I cannot count the number of times that these five boys have saved my life.  It must be in the thousands.  On days where I was planning on giving up, they reached out, pulled me from the waters in which I was drowning, and breathed life back into me. On the times that they could not get to me in time, they painstakingly nursed me back to life, suturing my gaping scars, filling the aching hollowness inside me, refusing to give up on me.  They saved my life. They took away my pain.  They gave me hope.  And I couldn’t ask for more.

And part of me knew that this was coming.  Part of me knew that they could not truly be happy and perfect in real life.  But I didn’t want to believe it.  Because if they weren’t so full of vibrancy and life and passion and love and unbridled joy, if they were not as happy as I knew them to be, then there was no hope left.  And it’s not that I thought they were perfect and without flaws, it’s just that I wanted--needed--so badly to believe that perfect love and friendship and happiness could and did actually exist.  They were proof of this.  And I wanted -- still want -- nothing more than for them to live the perfect lives that they deserve, to remain pure and unmarred by the wicked hands of life, far past the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.  I want nothing more than for them to be happy.

But the thing is, it’s impossible.  And so the cracks started to show, but I ignored them in desperate denial.  Zayn grew quieter and quieter in interviews, he became more and more self conscious and closed off, shrinking away, taking time off for stress.  Louis and Harry’s friendship, their beautiful, astounding friendship, began to suffer and wither.  Liam and Niall started growing up.  But still, I clung on to the illusion I had built in my head.  And then yesterday came.  And reality hit that these boys, my saviours, my glinting ray of hope, were not invincible to the darkness.  My light, the star that shone so bright, that I thought could never succumb to the crushing weight of sadness, that I thought to be invincible, flickered and went out.  And I learned that not even they could be free from the darkness.  

And it hurts so bad.  It hurts so bad to know that they feel pain and sadness, to know that maybe they too are choking on darkness.  It’s like my hope has died. And I just want to make believe that they are happy, that they live the perfect lives, that they face no pain or hardship.  I wish that I could have saved them from the world, but I couldn’t ever save them from the darkness.  And it hurts so fucking bad.

Zayn, Niall, Liam, Harry, and Louis, I just want you to be happy.  I want for you to have all the joy in life that you brought me.  I want you to know that I am so grateful to you for all you have done for me, and I will love and support you with my whole heart, no matter what.


	8. Chapter 8

Hello my lovelies, 

I just wanted to let you know that I think I'm ready to come back.  I'm sorry this isn't a new chapter--I'm still working on that--but I just wanted to let you know that I haven't abandoned or forgotten about you, it's just that I've been dealing with some personal stuff for a while that's kept me from writing.  Also, rather selfishly, I am in need of a bit of motivation in order to kick my lazy ass back into working on this story, and I figured that you lot are all the encouragement I need.  So basically, I'm going to try and have an actual new chapter (the final chapter dunh dunh duuunnnhhh!) up within the next week or so, but the more feedback I hear from you, the more likely I will be to update sooner.  That sounds kind of selfish in retrospect, but I assure you that your comments always make me even more determined to write the best possible story that I can and to do it as soon as I can too.  So yes, to answer your question, I am indeed being a selfish bum and asking you to give me some feedback/comments to motivate me to finish this story.  And I apologize for that.  Because I kind of hate myself for doing this, but I know that unless I hear that some of you want me to continue it, I most likely will keep procrastinating.  Anyways, long story short, a comment would be much appreciated and would have a direct impact on the speed in which I post the next chapter.  Okay, sorry for being a bum.  But in all seriousness, I'm back and I am trying to finish this story.  I just need a little bit of help.  I love you all so much.

Lots of Love,

-Lia


	9. Touched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything was dark. And everything hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it guys! The final chapter! I really hope you like it!

Everything was dark.  And everything hurt.  Those were the only things that seemed to register to me.  I concentrated for a few moments, and it dawned on me that I was lying down, lying down on a fairly comfortable surface.  So that made three things.  I then realized that my eyes were closed, which explained the whole everything being dark thing.  So naturally, I tried to open my eyes.  But as soon as I willed them open—an act which took an extraordinary amount of effort in it of itself—the brightness of wherever I was forced me to shut them again. The only knowledge I gained from this was that now my head was really hurting.  I tried to marshal myself for another attempt at seeing. I took a deep breath— _Ow_!  Holy hell that hurt!  My throat felt like someone had blasted it with sandpaper and my chest was on fucking fire. It felt like there was an elephant sitting on top of my chest, preventing me from taking a breath. It really, really hurt.

Okay new plan: don’t breathe. Wait, that might just be the shittiest plan I’ve ever come up with.  Of course I need to breathe.  God, sometimes I can be really stupid; why do people even like me?  No seriously, why do I even have fans?  I’m just some awkward teenager with a slightly better than average voice.  Nothing special. God, Niall, can’t you stay focused? Seriously. 

Okay, so back to trying to discover where the fuck I am, why the fuck I’m here, and why everything fucking hurts. Careful not to take a deep breath again, I steeled myself for another battle with my eyelids, this time preparing for the brightness and the inevitable worsening of my headache. On three.  One.  Two. Three.

I opened my eyes, blinking rapidly and squinting. So the room was white. And there were lots of machines all around.  And I appeared to be lying in a bed.  Oh, and there was this weird mask thing strapped to my face, covering my nose and mouth. Okay.  Well it wasn’t the bus, it didn’t look like any kind of hotel, and it certainly wasn’t my home.  That left two options: either I was kidnapped and being held hostage in some psycho’s torture chamber, or I was in the hospital.  The first really didn’t seem all that likely so I figured that I must be in the hospital.  But why the fuck was I in the hospital?  Had we gotten into a car crash or something?  Maybe that’s why everything hurt…

Wait but if this is the hospital, shouldn’t there be that annoying beeping—ah there it is.  As soon as I thought it, my ears seemed to kick back into action and the monotone _beep beep beep_ of the heart monitor filled my head.  God, I fucking hate that noise.  As if to spite me, it beeped louder and more obnoxiously.  Well fuck you too. 

Wait!  Hang on! If we got into a car crash…then where are the lads?  Are they okay? Oh my god what if something happened to them?  What if they were paralyzed, or burnt alive, or brain dead, or, or, or… Oh my god! I had to find them!

Ignoring the way my entire body screamed in pain, I sat bolt up right in bed.  “Ow ow owww!” I gasped as the pain hit me like a truck.  I was breathing hard, each breath tearing its way through my body, forcing itself down my raw throat and into my searing lungs, and the familiar panic was clawing its way through my veins.  The stupid EKG machine was going crazy.  _Beep!Beep!Beep!Beep!_ I ripped the monitor pads off my finger, trying frantically to untangle myself and escape this death bed but there were wires all around.  I yanked out the IV in my right arm and had started on the mask by the time the nurses came rushing in.  The fucking heart monitor had flipped a shit when I pulled it off and was flat lining into one monotonous, piercing _beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!_

The nurses came pouring into the room, trying to sedate me.  But I was beside myself. My boys were probably dead, and here they were trying to keep me in this goddamn fucking bed! I was hyperventilating, barely even noticing the scorching pain of each panicked breath.

“ _Where are they? Where are they_?” I wailed, my voice muffled through the stupid mask on my face.  “ _I need to see them!  Are they okay?_ ”  Some big nurse wrestled me down, and forced my arms back down by my side, where another nurse then strapped them to the rails of the bed.

They were all shouting at each other and some of them were trying to talk to me, but I couldn’t understand a single word they said. It was like they weren’t speaking English.  After a moment more of writhing, trying to extricate myself, it dawned on me that they were speaking French, or at least, it sounded like French.  My brain was muddled with terror, so it took a while for that information to permeate, but then I pieced it together; they were speaking French…so that meant that we were in France.  That was about all I could come up with before darkness was again sweeping over me.

* * *

 Everything was dark.  Everything hurt.  And there was this annoying as fuck beeping noise.  That’s all I knew.  Where am I?  What’s going on—wait, I’ve been through this before.  I’m in the hospital.  I was most likely in a car crash.  And my boys were…

My eyes flew open.  Only this time the room was dark, but I could detect the familiar outlines of four people surrounding my bed.  As my eyes adjusted to the room, I took it all in. Zayn was on my right side, by my head. Liam was on my other side, with his hand holding one of mine.  Oh. My arms were still tied to the bed. Louis and Harry were curled up together in a chair at the end of my bed. 

“Am I dead,” I breathed out, the noise, though muffled by the mask that was still covering my face, made all four of my boys jump.

“You’re awake!”  Harry practically squealed, jumping up from the chair he was sharing with Louis, long limbs flailing in his excitement.  I groaned, the loud noise making my head throb.  Harry certainly looked a little worse for the wear. His hair was a tangled mess, his eyes were red and puffy, and it looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. At my groan, his face fell, and he looked like he was about to cry as he whispered, “Sorry Ni.”

I would have said it’s okay, but speaking was a huge effort, and I had more pressing questions so I couldn’t afford to waste my breath. “Am I dead?”  I repeated, louder this time.

“What?”  That was Liam’s voice.  He sounded confused.

“No Ni, you’re not dead,” Louis calmly stated.

So I wasn’t dead.  But then…the car crash…how come they were all okay and I was lying tied down to a fucking hospital bed, feeling like absolute shit?  What the fuck? “But…but…what about the car crash?”

“Car crash?” Liam repeated, utterly baffled, “What car crash?  What are you on about Ni?”

“The car crash,” I insisted, though my certainty, which was not all that high to begin with, was waning, “Weren’t…weren’t we in a car crash?” I looked around to see all four of my boys shaking their heads. Wait so there was no car crash? Then…then, “Then why am I here?” My voice, to my embarrassment, quivered pathetically.

“You don’t remember?” gasped Liam. I shook my head. Ow.  That hurt.

There was a moment’s silence as we all tried to find words.  It was Louis’ voice, uncharacteristically gentle and soft, that broke the silence. “You had a panic attack, which triggered an asthma attack, love.”  Wait, _what?_   Clearly sensing that I had no idea what he was on about, Louis went on, “We were coming back to the hotel, and we got stuck in the lift…”

My eyes were filling with tears, and I could feel my throat tightening, making it even harder to speak, “And what, I just flipped out and lost my shit like a pathetic baby…” my voice shook as I fought to hold back the tears.  This couldn’t be happening. Not again.  I promised myself that I’d never be that weak and pathetic ever again.

“No, no love,” Louis shushed me, moving to stand next to Zayn, and winding a soothing hand through my hair, “You’re not pathetic at all. I promise.”  He only ever called me love when I was sick, or upset, or he had bad news.  He carded his fingers through my hair ever so tenderly.

The tears were fighting to escape, and my throat was so tight, I could barely get the words out, “S-so then w-what ha-appened?” My voice cracked.  Stupid baby. Get your shit together. Louis didn’t answer. Everything was blurring in and out of focus as I looked past Louis to Zayn, who had been entirely silent up until this point.  His face was filled with such worry, he looked years older.  As I stared into his loving eyes, it was as if something inside of me broke. Everything came flooding back to me. The long day, Louis dragging me into the lift, it taking forever and then screeching to a stop, the lights going out, the impenetrable darkness, the walls closing in on me, not being able to breathe, the suffocating air…

I could feel the tears pouring down my cheeks. God, this was so humiliating. Why couldn’t I just be normal? What fucking eighteen-year-old boy has a panic attack because he gets stuck in a lift?  What a fucking freak.  I’m such a pathetic worthless loser.  God they were going to hate me.  They’d get sick of me being such a baby and kick me out of the band, and the fans would all make fun of me, and I’d have to go back home, and I’d be such a worthless failure, and everyone would have been right about me: that I couldn’t handle it, that I wasn’t strong enough, that I was just a scrawny little kid with more anxiety than talent.  God Niall, you’re such a worthless fuck up.  It’s like that time on the X-Factor, when we hid in the closet but the door got stuck and I freaked out in front of everyone.  God I’m so worthless, I don’t even deserve to be alive.  I don’t deserve to be in the band, I don’t deserve to have friends, I don’t deserve to have fans, I don’t deserve to follow my dreams, _I don’t even deserve to be alive_. I don’t even want to be alive anymore. I just want to disappear and save the world from having to put up with me any longer.

I was sobbing now.

“Oh Ni, baby, don’t cry,” cooed Louis. “You’re okay.  We’re all here.  Everyone’s okay.  We love you so much.”

I couldn’t help it, I cried harder. I hated myself so fucking much. I just wanted to disappear. I just wanted to die. The pitying looks they were giving me were burning holes through my head.

Before I knew it, Zayn had climbed into bed with me, pulling me into his arms.  Liam and Louis must have untied my arms from the bed, because I was able to wrap them around myself, gasping for air as I cried.  Everything hurt and this was so embarrassing and I just hated myself so much.

Zayn wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close to his chest.  I tried to burry my face in his neck, but the goddamn mask got in the way and so I cried harder. Zayn just held me close, rubbing his hands up and down my arms.  Louis was stroking my hair.

Eventually I calmed down a bit. But it took a while, me being a worthless pathetic mess and all. “’M sorry,” I mumbled, unable to make eye contact with any of them.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, babes,” murmured Zayn, his fingers tightening momentarily as he squeezed my arm in a comforting way.

“Yeah Ni,” piped up Harry.  He looked terrible.  I probably looked a million times worse anyways. “Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault.”

He was lying to me.  They were all lying.  “Stop! Just stop, okay!” My voice cracked again.  “It is my fault, and you saying that it’s not doesn’t make it any better!  It’s my body, I should be able to control myself and not freak out like a stupid baby.  It is my fault okay. And I’m sorry that I’m so weak. I’m sorry I’m such an embarrassment! I’m sorry I’m such a burden—“

“ _You are not a burden!_ ” Liam cut across me harshly.  “And it’s not your fault Niall.  You have an anxiety disorder and asthma, both of which are beyond your control and they are not your fault.  You don’t deserve to have them, and it’s not your fault that you do have them. Okay.  And that does _not_ make you weak.  It makes you strong. You’re so fucking strong because despite everything being that much harder for you, you still are conquering the world. You’re following your dreams, _despite_ the fact that you have a disease that makes it harder for you than most people.  You are _not_ weak. You are the strongest, bravest, kindest, most loving and lovable person I know, and we all love and admire you so much! So _you_ stop!  Stop saying that you’re pathetic and weak, because you are the opposite of pathetic. You are amazing. And we all love you so, so much.”

I couldn’t stop a few tears from leaking out of my eyes. I was so incredibly touched. “You…you really think that?”

“I know that.”

“Thank you. I love you all too.”

* * *

 Of course, that wasn’t a magic cure. It didn’t make everything better. It didn’t make me forget what happened, it didn’t make me get out of the hospital any sooner, it didn’t erase my feelings of shame and guilt and self loathing, it didn’t diminish my insecurities, and it certainly didn’t make my anxiety disorder or my claustrophobia go away. But it did help. It helped to know that my boys had my back and loved me as much as I loved them.

When I finally got out of the hospital, after a total of three days—management had released a statement that I was sick—I was really scared about how the fans would react.  Would they be mad at me for missing the concerts and signings? Would they hate me for it? Would they think that the band was better off without me?  And what would they say when they saw me.  During the incident, I had apparently clawed at my neck a lot, and it was now red raw and covered in scratches.  How on earth could I explain that away?  What would everyone say or think when they saw?

But, I forgot that my boys always had my back. On the day of my discharge, they showed up with a bag full of scarves.  Some were stylish—way to stylish for me to pull off without looking like an arse—and some were thick woolen knit scarves.  One was even knitted by Liam’s mum.  Of course my boys had my back.  They always did.

After pretending to strangle me with the scarf, Louis wrapped one around my neck, kissed me on the forehead, clapped me on the shoulder and said, “Aww look, our little baby is soo cute! All wrapped up for the cold.” It was the middle of winter to be honest.  “You’re so adorable Nialler, I could just eat you up!  But I won’t because then I’d be sad, and I’d probably go to jail for cannibalism, so yeah, I won’t eat you, don’t worry. Though I bet you do taste good…” He trailed off, pretending to lick my face.

“Gerroff, you nasty shithead!” I laughed, trying to shove him off.  God I loved my boys.

Paul came to collect us after all my paperwork was sorted.  He had been almost as worried as my boys had been these past few days.

Harry insisted on giving me a piggyback out of the hospital and all the way to the taxi that would take us to the hotel. When we got there, I clammed up at the thought of having to go inside the lift again.  But no sooner had I hesitated then Louis yelled out, “Never fear Nialler!  The Tommo is here!” And he swooped me up into his arms and began to run up the stairs.  He made it about twelve steps up before nearly keeling over and sending the both of us crashing down the stairs.  But Harry, always two steps behind Louis, caught us, and so the boys, despite my weak protests, all grabbed ahold of me and carried me all the way up the four flights of stairs and into the room I was sharing with Zayn and Liam. Dumping me unceremoniously, though still rather gently, on the bed, they proceeded to cuddle all around me.

The next few days were going to be hard, but I knew that I could get through anything with my boys at my side.

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so so very much for being so patient with me and for sticking with this fic. I'm really proud to say that this is the first chaptered fic that I've ever finished. I really hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> In case you wanted to see what the boys look like in this fic, and what I was thinking of when I talked about the whole scarves thing, here is a link to the pictures I had in mind  
> http://to-dance-beneath-the-diamond-sky.tumblr.com/post/120868886059/claustrophobic
> 
> Seriously though, I can't thank you all enough for sticking with me through thick and thin. Writing really helps me, and I'm so grateful that I have so many wonderful people to share my writing with. I love you all so incredibly much. So thank you again for being awesome, wonderful, amazing people.  
> Lots of love,  
> -Lia

**Author's Note:**

> Comment...or not...Whichever you please
> 
> Be kind and understanding with each other and yourselves. Remember that you are important and you are loved.
> 
> I'm always here if ever you need someone to talk to, or if you just need a friend. You can find me on tumblr at lia-is-in-love.tumblr.com
> 
> Lots of love,  
> -Lia


End file.
